Our Angels And Demons
by what-a-fangirl221B
Summary: Faith Lancaster was living a pretty normal life, until she met two people she never thought she would see again. Little did she know that they would completely change her life. (OC Story)
1. Chapter 1: Familiar Faces

_**Chapter One: Familiar Faces**_

I was running as fast as my legs could carry me. It was pitch black outside, and I could barely see what was in front of my face. However, it wasn't what was in front of me that I was worried about. I knew without looking back that the creature was closing in on me. Hearing the monster's vicious snarls alerted me that I needed to run even faster. My legs were burning and my lungs felt like they were about to explode (thanks, asthma), but I kept going; knowing that if I slowed down I would never breathe again.

I was on my way home from class, taking the usual trail to my apartment when it jumped me. I didn't even know what 'it' was; I just knew that it wanted to kill me.

The adrenaline and fear kept me running, but I knew that my energy would soon wear off. I felt my body start to slow down, despite my desperate plea to keep running as quickly as possible. I knew I had reached the end of my limit. I could now hear the creature's rough, ragged breathing close behind me. It snarled, preparing to attack.

And then the worst possible thing happened. I tripped over a large, thick stick and fell to the ground. I looked up in terror, and was shocked to see that my pursuer looked humanoid, but I knew that it definitely wasn't a human. It had animal-like glowing eyes and razor-sharp teeth. Then I looked harder and saw that it had long claws like a savage cat.

I looked into the bloodthirsty eyes and saw hunger, a deep hunger that would drive the monster to do anything to kill me. "Please don't," I pleaded in a horrified whisper. I didn't want to die, not at 22 years old. I was not a very religious person, but I thought a silent prayer to live. _Please, God, don't let me die like this. Let me live, please._

The humanoid beast grinned murderously and laughed. I knew that it was over. But I also knew that I could not die without trying to fight the thing. I picked up the same stick that tripped me and thrust it into the chest of the monster.

It howled in pain, but there was no real effect. All I did was make it even angrier. It made a loud roaring sound at me and aimed its claws at my throat. I quickly held up my arm to block the lethal blow, and its claws ripped into my arm. I shrieked in agony and tried to kick it away, but there was no such luck. It was much stronger than me, and I knew it. It was just about to go for my throat again and I knew very well that there was no way for me to fight it off. I was preparing to die (at least, as best as I could) and shut my eyes.

I screamed when I heard the gunshot, and my attacker staggered and collapsed to its knees. I looked around wildly to find out who had saved me. In the thick darkness, all I could see were two figures standing before me. The taller one held out his hand to help me up, and I accepted it. I gritted my teeth when he pulled on my injured arm, but I was grateful for his help. The shorter one walked over to the collapsed beast and slowly moved his foot over to prod it.

"I don't think that's a good idea," I warned in a weak voice. I was starting to feel the effects of my loss of blood.

He ignored me and prodded the creature, checking if it was dead. There was no response. "This doesn't make sense," he stated. "Bullets can't kill these things."

Suddenly, it grabbed the man's foot and threw him to the side. I heard the sickening thud as his head hit a rock. I saw his silhouette fall to a crumpled heap; the silence proved that he was unconscious.

The tall one who had helped me up yelled, "Dean!" and ran to the monster, attacking it savagely with a knife. He managed to give it a few nasty cuts, by the sounds of its pain-filled roars, but the creature cleverly twisted the man's hand around and grabbed the hilt of the knife. Then, it pinned him up against a tree, and my rescuer was now the one who needed to be saved. He looked at me – well, at least I thought he did, I couldn't really see – and yelled, "Grab the blowtorch from my bag! Hurry!"

Why he had a blowtorch in his bag, I didn't know, but frankly at that moment I didn't care. I dashed over to the bag and frantically searched for the blowtorch in the dark. I heard the man gasping for air and knew the creature must have been choking him.

I found the blowtorch and threw it to his outstretched hand. Suddenly the darkness of the night was illuminated by the light of the erupting flames.

The fire gave me enough light to see what was going on. The creature was currently burning to ashes and the man with the blowtorch looked relieved, tired, and strangely familiar. The unconscious one looked very familiar as well.

Sure, I had almost been killed and here I was thinking, "Where have I seen them before?" I should have been thinking, "A supernatural freak of nature almost killed me!" But no, I was more concerned about my rescuers' identity.

I looked at the tall one. "Thanks, you saved my life," I said to him in relief that the whole ordeal was over.

He replied in a tired tone, "Don't mention it."

I smiled even though I knew he couldn't see it, since the fire had gone out.

He turned to me and said, "You're hurt." It wasn't a question.

I suddenly remembered the piercing pain in my right arm and winced. "Oh… that. Don't worry, it's nothing," I lied, trying to keep the obvious pain out of my voice.

He came closer and gently grabbed my arm to look at it. He pulled out his cell phone to use as a light. "That doesn't look like nothing," he stated. He sounded genuinely worried about me.

I looked and saw that he was correct. There was a long, jagged laceration running almost the entire length of my arm that was covered in blood.

"Well…" I said quietly, trying to fight away the feeling of light-headedness. "At least blood doesn't bother me… Mostly."

He must have noticed that I was trembling and said, "It's okay. Let's get back to the car and we'll fix you up back at the motel." Then he looked puzzled. "Speaking of 'we', where's Dean…" And then he became pale. "Oh, crap."

He ran over to the other guy, apparently named Dean, and started to shake him. "Dean! Get up!" he shouted. Dean didn't stir, so the other guy decided to smack him in the face. Still no response.

I was starting to get concerned. "Is he okay?" I asked in a hushed voice.

"Yeah, he's fine. This happens a lot, although it doesn't normally take this long for him to wake up." He sighed. "I guess we're just gonna have to carry him back to the car."

I wondered what they could possibly do to get knocked out and injured on a regular basis, but I figured that it wasn't the best time to ask.

"Okay." I walked over to Dean and helped pull him up. I wrapped my good arm around his side and his friend got his other side. Our "carrying" ended up turning into "dragging", but it still worked.

I looked to the guy on the other side and said, "I know this is kind of random, but may I ask what your name is?"

He laughed faintly and replied, "Sam. My name is Sam. And my unconscious brother is Dean, as you probably heard before."

Sam… Dean… No, it couldn't be. It had to be a coincidence, but I decided that I would check. "Nice name, I'm Faith."

Sam stopped dead in his tracks, causing me to almost take a faceplant. "Faith? You don't mean… Faith Lancaster?"

I looked at him, as well as I could in the darkness. "You're Sam Winchester, aren't you?" I asked, with my smile about to break out.

He replied, "Yeah! It's been a long time." I could tell from his voice that he was grinning.

"I know! 8 years, right?" I asked, glad that the darkness hid my smile.

"Yeah, since freshman year in high school," he replied, obviously still smiling. That was one of the things that I remembered about Sam – That no matter how much his life royally sucked, he always tried to smile.

We made little conversation as we walked to the car, because we were both extremely tired from fighting the creature and our long trek while dragging an unconscious Dean along.

There was one thing that I needed to know. "What was that thing that attacked me, Sam? I'm guessing that you know."

He hesitated and took a deep breath. "Well," he began. "It was a wendigo."

Having absolutely no idea what that was, I asked, "Um… A wendigo? Care to clarify?"

Sam laughed nervously and explained, "A wendigo is a human-like cannibalistic predator that hunts humans when they get lost in the woods or are alone on trails. The funny thing is that they used to actually be humans like you and me."

"What?" I asked in disbelief. "There's no way that… _thing_ used to be one of us."

He chuckled at my tone and continued. "That's an explanation for a later time. Anyway, if they catch you, which they almost always do, then they take you back to their hiding spot and well… eat you alive. Then they sleep for about 20 years after they've eaten enough."

I let it all sink in. "Wonderful… So, if you weren't there, I would most likely be dead or dying right now."

He didn't know what to say. "Well…" he began, but couldn't think of a reply.

I smiled and said, "Thank you, Sam. I owe you and Dean my life."

I couldn't see him very well in the poor lighting, but I was pretty sure that he was turning slightly red.

"It- it's no problem," he stammered. "There was someone who needed help, so I had to do something."

I looked at him over Dean's head. "That's really brave," I said quietly, and then I mentally kicked myself after realizing how lame and incredibly cheesy that sounded.

He was probably becoming even redder. "No, not really. Dean and I just do what we have to do to make sure that no one dies when we're able to save them."

We finally got to the car and I stared at it in awe. It was the same shiny, black Chevy Impala that I remembered from freshman year. "You still have your dad's old Impala? I always loved this car!" I exclaimed.

Sam smiled and replied, "Yeah, I remember. But it's not really mine; it's Dean's."

We opened up one of the doors and laid Dean across the backseat. Sam got in on the driver's side and I rode shotgun. When the 80's rock music came on, I felt like my ears were about to burst. I jumped and stared at Sam in astonishment, because the blaring sound didn't seem to bother him at all.

He noticed my reaction and turned it down. He grinned at me in amusement. "Sorry," he said. "Dean liked to keep the music loud."

"I can tell," I said sarcastically. My ears were still throbbing.

He kept grinning in amusement, which kind of annoyed me. "I'm glad to know you find me funny, Sam," I mumbled. I looked at him, and for the first time that night I was able to really see him, because of the passing street lights. I was trying to push the thought of him being handsome out of my mind. Thinking about an old best friend in that way was slightly awkward.

As he drove, I continued the conversation from earlier. "It's true though, I wouldn't be here right now if it weren't for you and… Dean." I forced myself to say the older brother's name.

Sam laughed and I became irritated. "What are you laughing about?" I asked indignantly.

He continued to laugh. "You're still bitter about my brother, I see. It's been 8 years; isn't it time to forgive and forget?" he asked me in amusement.

I suddenly felt as if my blood was boiling. "How can I? Every time I look at him it just reminds me of what he did to me. I can't forget it, Sam. It was horrible!" I exclaimed defensively.

He was quiet for a moment. "I know," he said gently and with caution, careful not to make me even more upset. "But he's changed, I promise. You can't keep hating him for what he did in high school and tearing yourself up in the process. Life is too short to hold a grudge like that, Faith."

I gave him no response. I thought about what he said and knew he was probably right; I just didn't want to admit it. The pain in my arm was too much for me to carry on a conversation any longer. I tried to ignore it as best as I could, leaned my head back into the headrest, and succumbed to sleep.

When I woke up we were pulling into a parking lot. I looked at the sign and it said, "Motel". No fancy name; just "Motel".

Sam turned off the car and looked to the backseat. He reached around and started shaking Dean again. "Dean!" he shouted. "Wake up, you've had long enough of a nap!"

I was trying not to laugh as I heard a grumble from the backseat. "Looks like Sleeping Beauty is awake," I remarked.

Sam chuckled. "That wendigo got you pretty good, didn't it?"

Dean sat up and started rubbing his head and wincing. "Shut up, Sam," he snapped in a not-so-pleasant tone.

"Somebody's grumpy," I said sardonically.

Dean gave me a look that was a cross between confusion and a glare. "Who are you?" he asked accusingly. "And why are riding shotgun in MY car?!"

It didn't surprise me that he didn't recognize me. I was taller and my dark brown hair was a lot longer. I also wore contacts instead of actual glasses.

I had a bit of a mischievous smirk. "You mean you don't remember me, Dean?" I asked in a faux-sweet tone. "You always were a bit… absentminded."

He gave me an angry glance before looking to Sam. "Who is she? And why is she insulting me?"

Sam smiled in pure amusement and said, "She's the girl we just saved. You know, Faith Lancaster?"

Dean's face went pale. "Oh. Her."

I forced myself to smile. "Yeah, me. Look, I really shouldn't be rude. You did help save me after all. Thank you, Dean," I told him sincerely.

He nodded. "Of course."

I unbuckled my seatbelt and opened my door. "But I still don't like you," I replied bitterly.

Dean gave me an insulted look. "You'd think I'd get a little more gratitude since I just helped save your ass!" He said angrily.

"I said thank you, and I meant it. However, that doesn't mean I have to like you, Dean," I argued.

He shrugged and replied, "Fine, I don't like you either."

I rolled my eyes and got out of the car. Dean looked at Sam for help. Sam held up his hands in defense and left the car, leading me to the motel room.

When we got to the room, I realized I had never in my life been happier to see a bed. My muscles were aching and my eyes were stinging with fatigue, but the blinding pain reminded me of something more important than sleeping.

"Um… Could someone please help me with my arm?" I asked, my voice weakening. My arm was covered in blood and it looked, well, unpleasant.

"Yeah, I'll get the first-aid kit," Sam offered as he walked over to the side of the room. He pulled out their makeshift medical kit and opened it. We sat on the edge of one of the beds and I looked into the box. I saw excessive amounts of gauze, tape, dental floss, needles, bandages, anti-bacterial ointment, and a small bottle of liquor.

I blinked. "I take it that you two have never been to CVS?" I asked half-jokingly.

Dean walked in the door and shut it behind him. "We do the best with what we have," he stated. "By the way, thanks for leaving me back there, you ungrateful little-" He cut off when he saw my arm. "Ouch," He remarked, actually looking sympathetic.

I winced. "Yeah, 'ouch' pretty much covers it."

Sam walked over to the sink in the bathroom and wet a cloth. He returned and wiped off the blood surrounding the wound. I bit my lip, trying to hold back tears. There was _no _way that I would let Dean see me cry. I had a bad feeling that this pain was nothing compared to what was coming.

He pulled out the liquor bottle. "Okay, be prepared. This is probably going to hurt like hell."

I gritted my teeth and looked at a fixed point on the wall. As soon as the alcohol touched my wound, I felt like my arm was on fire. It took all of my effort not to scream, or faint for that matter. I grabbed Sam's hand unintentionally and squeezed it with all of my remaining strength. I was cursing quite colorfully.

When he finished pouring the alcohol over my wound, I felt the pain start to ease a bit. But that doesn't mean it didn't still sting like a bitch.

"Well," I gasped. "That stung a bit."

Sam and Dean looked at me with concern. "Are you alright?" Dean asked.

I nodded. "I'll live," I stated. It wasn't as bad as before; the pain was starting to turn into numbness. I tried to ignore it as Sam pulled out the needle and dental floss; I had always been afraid of needles.

He saw the fear on my face and said, "This won't hurt as much as you think it will. The worst is already over, I promise."

He reassured me a bit, but I couldn't help wondering if that was one of the same it-won't-hurt promises that dentists make to kids so they don't throw a fit. I pushed that thought aside and tried to think of pleasant things. Surprisingly, I didn't feel much as Sam started to stitch up the wound, only a dull sting.

"So," I started, trying to make conversation to distract myself. "I'm guessing you didn't learn how to do all of this by watching late-night reruns of House."

He laughed and responded, "No, I didn't. We have to learn how to fix ourselves up with the stuff we do."

I hesitated. "I'm not trying to pry, but what exactly do you guys do?" I asked, although I was pretty sure I knew the answer already.

"Isn't it obvious?" Dean asked from the other side of the room, where he was sitting on a desk. I had almost forgotten he was there because of his silence. He continued, "We hunt the things that go bump in the night. That's always been out family's job for as long as I can remember. It's our responsibility."

I could tell from his tone and Sam's look how much they felt responsible for hunting the supernatural. I felt bad for them, having to exchange a normal life for a miserable and dangerous one. I felt guilty for having fun and going to college while Sam and Dean risked their lives on a daily basis to save people like myself.

We sat in silence as Sam finished stitching my arm up. "All right," Sam finally remarked. "You're all done."

"Thanks, Doc," I said teasingly.

Sam smiled. "Don't mention it." And then his face turned serious. "I do have to say, you took 'the supernatural exist' thing very well. Especially since you were almost killed by a monster not too long ago," he said suspiciously.

Dean crossed his arms and gave me the 'tell us everything' look.

I sighed. "Yeah, because that's not the first time I've encountered them," I admitted.

They looked surprised. "What are you talking about?" Sam asked.

I looked down. "Four years ago, I was still living at home with my parents in Virginia. It was the summer before I was about to go to college," I began. I didn't want to tell this story, but I knew they would get it out of me eventually. They were looking at me intensely, wanting to hear everything. "I was out partying with my friends, celebrating the end of high school. Since I still lived at home, my mom and dad enforced a curfew of midnight. It was almost 1 AM and I was wondering why they hadn't called me yet to tell me to come home. It wasn't like them, you know?" I looked at Sam and he nodded, encouraging me to continue.

"So I decided to go home and see what was going on. I thought my parents were probably arguing, just like they did every day. When I pulled into the driveway, it was absolutely silent, which was odd. When they argued you could hear them shouting at each other almost down the whole block. I thought, 'Maybe they just fell asleep'. I unlocked the front door and walked in. I yelled 'Guys, I'm home!' and there was no answer. I went upstairs and walked to their bedroom and I-" I broke off, not wanting to say it.

I took a deep breath and closed my eyes; I could almost see the event unfolding as I spoke of it. "I saw them get killed by vampires."

What was originally surprise on Sam and Dean's faces were now pure, cold shock. I started to tear up, remembering the fanged creatures tearing into my parents' throats.

Sam put his arm around me. "I'm so sorry you had to go through that, Faith," he told me.

Dean was quiet. He didn't know what to say, and I didn't blame him. What are you supposed to say when someone goes through something like that? He just looked at me with sadness in his eyes. I hated it, I didn't want pity.

"Don't be sorry," I said. "There's nothing that could've been done." And it was true—how were you supposed to fight off a bunch of vampires when you're just a teenage girl with no fighting experience?

Dean asked, "What did you do? After you saw the vampires, I mean."

"I ran, of course. I went back to my car and drove away as fast as I could. I never went back after that night," I explained. "It was weird though… They didn't chase after me or anything—they just let me go."

We sat in silence for a moment. "I should probably be getting home," I said, standing up.

"We'll drive you," Dean offered.

"Wait," Sam said. "It's late and you're injured. I'd feel a lot better if you stayed here tonight."

I was puzzled. "What?"

Dean was even more confused. "Yeah, what? She'll be fine, she's a tough one," he said, nudging me on my good arm, earning a glare from me.

"Don't touch me," I told him.

Sam persisted. "Plus you just had a bit of a traumatizing experience; I don't think you should be left alone right now."

He gave me his famous Puppy-Dog Eyes and I sighed. "Fine, I don't care anymore. I just want to go to sleep," I surrendered.

As I scanned the room I noticed a problem. "There are only two beds," I observed.

Dean smirked and said, "The other half of my bed is always free."

I looked at him in disgust and snapped, "You're such a perverted creep, Dean Winchester!"

He shrugged. "I've been called worse."

I rolled my eyes and collapsed on one of the beds. "You two can share a bed. Brotherly love," I commented.

"HELL NO!" they shouted in unison.

"Fine," I said. "I don't care who shares my bed, I just want to go to sleep." After that statement, I drifted off.

(Sam's POV)

Faith was asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. After he saw she was no longer conscious, Dean looked at me in anger. "It's awesome that we saved her life and everything, but why does she have to stay here, Sam?"

I looked back at him and said, "I know you two don't get along, but I just have this feeling. A feeling that she needs us."

Dean gave me an exasperated look. "Is this another one of your crazy psychic premonitions? Why in the hell would she need us?!"  
I shrugged. "I don't think it's a premonition; just a feeling. But we're not abandoning her, and that's that."

Dean sighed and lay down on the other bed. "You're not gonna let me live in peace, are you?" he asked as he threw his head down on the pillow.

I grinned. "And what kind of brother would I be if I did that?"

**A/N – This is my first SPN fanfiction, so thanks for reading! I already have the next two chapters done and saved on my laptop, but I want to see if people like this first. Please comment what you think, and feel free to give me constructive criticism, as long as it's respectful. Stay tuned for chapter 2! **


	2. Chapter 2: A Member of the Team

**A/N – I just finished the fourth chapter, so I figured I would go ahead and post this one tonight :) I forgot to mention in the last chapter, this takes place during the timeline of Season 1, if you didn't already figure that out. There will be similarities in the plotline of this story and the TV show, but I'll also be adding a bunch of my own stuff. Sorry for the incredibly long Author's Note, but I just wanted to let you all know! I hope you enjoy the chapter!**

**Chapter 2: A Member of the Team**

(Faith's POV)

I woke up and was surprised to see Sam's face just about an inch away from mine. He was still sound asleep. I quickly moved to the edge of the bed to avoid any awkward situations when he woke up.

Dean's voice startled me. "Well, well, well… Looks like you and Sammy were getting cozy over there," he accused with a smirk. He was flipping through channels on the TV, unable to find anything interesting.

"What? N-no!" I stammered, still trying to clear the sleepiness from my brain. I knew I was blushing.

He laughed. "You two are too cute," he said teasingly.

I resisted the urge to walk over to him and punch him in the face. Sam started to stir and asked drowsily, "Wait, what?"

Dean opened his mouth and was about to say something when I said, "Nothing!"

Sam gave me a confused look, but seemed to shrug it off. I gave Dean a look that said, 'If you say anything, I will kill you slowly and painfully'.

Thankfully, he dropped the subject and continued channel-surfing. I sighed in relief, thought about the events from the previous night, and collapsed back onto the pillow in exasperation. I glanced at the clock and it was 9 AM.

"I'm gonna go get some breakfast," Dean announced. "What do you guys want?"

"Two sausage biscuits and a coffee," Sam answered.

Dean looked to me. "I don't know," I said, proving my inability to think properly in the morning. "A chicken biscuit, I guess? And I'll take coffee too."

He grabbed his keys and his wallet, heading for the door. "I'll be back in about 10 minutes," he said. Then, with a smirk he said, "No funny business." He left and closed the door.

We stared at the door blankly. "What's he talking about?" Sam asked.

"Nothing," I said quickly. Then, Sam got up and went to the bathroom and I continued to lie in the bed, thinking about everything.

After Mom and Dad died, I chose to push back my sadness, go out of state to college, and live a happy life. It was in that moment that I realized I wasn't living happily as I had thought; I was only masking my sadness and anger. I wasn't happy living my life the same day after day. I didn't even have any friends in this city because I had refused to be social. I didn't enjoy my classes at Pittsburgh University; it was only a routine to distract me from the bad thoughts running through my mind.

Thinking about the way my parents died and the wendigo that attacked me, I started to think very hard. When I heard that Sam and Dean hunted supernatural beings, a little part of me wanted in.

Sam walked out of the bathroom in a different shirt and pair of jeans. "What's on your mind?" he asked.

I looked at the end of the bed, unsure how to say what I wanted to say. "Wait until Dean gets back," I answered. I figured he should hear what I have to say as well.

"Alright," Sam said, still curious. He sat on the end of the bed.

I looked at the TV without really watching it. Finally, Dean showed up with a bag and a drink tray. He set them down on the bedside table and took his own food. He passed out our biscuits and handed us our coffee. "Thanks," I said.

"Faith Lancaster, are you actually thanking me for something?" Dean asked with a mock gasp.

I narrowed my eyes at him. "Don't get used to it, buddy," I told him, taking a sip of my coffee.

Sam, however, wanted to skip the casual conversation and move onto what I had to tell them. "You can tell us now," Sam pushed.

"Tell us what?" Dean asked, taking a seat on his bed and digging into his breakfast. That boy didn't waste any time when it came to food.

I didn't know where to begin. "Well, I uh—I've been thinking, and I realized that there isn't anything here for me."

"What do you mean?" Sam asked with his brow furrowed.

"In Pittsburgh, or Pennsylvania as a whole for that matter. I've come to realize that I'm not happy. To be honest, I'm pissed off," I went on.

With a mouth full of food, Dean asked, "About what?"

"About the damned monsters! They killed my parents, and one of them almost killed me last night, and I damn well know that they're probably killing someone else right now!" I yelled.

Sam and Dean looked at each other, kind of like they both knew something I didn't. "This is normal," Sam explained. "You're going to feel angry about it, but after a while, it'll wear off."

"I don't want it to wear off; I want to do something about it!" I yelled, slamming my fist on the side of the bed.

Dean was starting to look a little annoyed. "And what do you propose we do?" he asked.

I felt so frustrated and scared. I was scared because I was afraid they would turn me down. "If it's okay, I want to come with you guys," I finally confessed.

Sam was quiet, but Dean was quick to answer me. "No way," he said.

"But-" I started to argue.

"No, and that's final," Dean ordered. He had this look on his face like he was the authority over us.

I crossed my arms and replied, "I'm pretty sure you're not the only one who has a say in whether I go." I looked to Sam, who'd been strangely quiet after I announced my wish.

He clenched his jaw, the way he does when he either a) Doesn't know what to say, b) Is nervous about something, c) Is pissed about something, or d) All of the above. He looked to Dean and said, "I need to talk to you outside."

They walked outside, leaving me alone in the room.

(Sam's POV)

We walked outside the room and shut the door. "Dean," I began. "I think we should let her come."

He looked astonished. "What? Why would you say that, Sam? You know we have a mission to do. We have to find Dad, and we need to figure out what's going on with your psychic crap! We can't have a distraction right now," he declared.

I shook my head. "I know how she feels, and you should too. She's been wronged by these things and she wants revenge. Isn't that what made us start hunting? Please, tell me if I'm mistaken."

Now he was getting pissed. "We'll have to take time, which should be spent for more important things, to teach her how to hunt. You know how long that will take? She's not a fighter, Sam."

"You're wrong," I told him. I explained when I saw his confusion. "I saw something last night, when I was torching the son of a bitch."

"And what did you see?" Dean asked impatiently.

"A wound," I answered.

He stared at me blankly. "Yeah, because I freaking shot it, you idiot."

"No, it was a stab wound; too big for our knives," I replied. He wasn't getting it, and it was irritating me. "I'm thinking she stabbed it with something, like a branch. Most people would have laid down and screamed, but she actually tried to fight it."

He finally understood what I was trying to tell him. "So you think she's supposed to be a hunter," he guessed.

I nodded. "It's too much of a coincidence, Dean. She's run into these things twice now, and she tried to fight. She's brave, and she wants vengeance. That's the perfect recipe for a hunter. She's not happy here, and it's not right for us to abandon her," I said, refusing to lose this fight.

The look on Dean's face told me that I already won. He sighed and rolled his eyes. "Fine," he replied. "She can come with us. But _you're _training her, you hear me?" Then, pointing a finger at me, he said, "You're only doing this because you want to get in her pants."

I stared at him in disbelief as he walked back to the room. "That's not true and you know it!" I shouted after him.

He laughed in amusement. "Whatever you say, Sammy."

(Faith's POV)

They re-entered the room and I bolted up. "So?" I asked, trying to mask my eagerness for their answer.

"All right, here's the deal," Dean announced. "You hold us up, you're gone. You screw up a hunt, you're gone. And if you screw up my car in any way, shape or form, you're most definitely gone."

I ran up and pulled them in for a hug. "Thank you guys so much! You have no idea how much this means to me," I exclaimed.

Dean pushed me off. "Yeah, whatever. But no hugs or chick-flick moments!" he commanded.

I laughed. I was so overjoyed to know that I would finally be able to fight what had been tormenting me for so long.

"Get ready," Dean ordered. "We leave in half an hour. We'll go get some of your stuff, but then we're out of here."

I nodded. "Yes, sir!" I exclaimed with a mock salute.

Sam laughed and Dean glared at me. "What am I getting myself into?" Dean muttered to himself as he sat down with a newspaper.

I ignored his comment and went to the bathroom to shower. After I was done, I had the realization that my shirt was dirty, bloody, and sweaty from the night before. I wrapped myself in a towel and yelled, "Sam! Can I borrow a shirt?"

I could only guess that Dean was snickering and making some perverted remark. The door cracked open a little as Sam shoved a t-shirt through. "Thanks," I said through the door.

I got dressed and pulled Sam's gray Stanford shirt on. As I looked in the mirror I had to keep from laughing because his shirt was practically a short dress on me. I brushed my hair out with my fingers and reminded myself not to open my mouth too much until I got to my apartment, because I didn't have my toothbrush.

I left the bathroom and walked back into the room, where Sam and Dean were packing things away into their bags. Sam glanced at me and laughed. "You look so tiny in my shirt."

I glared at him indignantly. "I am not tiny. I'm like, 5'10. It's not my fault you're a gargantuan," I defended.

"Gargantuan?" Dean asked in bewilderment. Then he looked at Sam and told him, "You two really are perfect for each other." That earned him a smack on the back of his head. Before I knew it, I was witnessing a Winchester slap-fight.

"HEY!" I shouted. "Knock it off!" I smacked them both on the backs of their heads.

"Ow," they both mumbled, rubbing the spots where I hit them. It was actually a very bad idea because my injured arm began to hurt like a bitch again.

Sam saw the pain cross my face and threw me a pill bottle. "What's this?" I asked.

"Pain meds," he answered. "Nothing too strong, but it helps."

I chuckled half-heartedly and replied, "You know, drug dealing is wrong." I opened the bottle and swallowed two of the pills. "I'm not even going to ask how you got these."

Dean slung his bag over his shoulder and said, "Sam, go check out. I'll load up the car."

I grabbed the other bag and followed Dean to the Impala. We threw the bags in the trunk and got in the car, with me in the back this time. I heard Dean sigh. "You know, if we're going to be travelling together, we're going to have to get along," he said, looking at me in the rearview mirror.

"I'll try my best," I stated, flashing him a fake smile.

He was taken aback. "Why are you so pissed off at me?"

"You know why," I countered.

"You're still mad at me for something I did in high school? Are you serious?" he asked in disbelief.

"It's more than that!" I shouted.

We were interrupted as Sam opened the passenger door and climbed in. "Where to?" he asked.

"I live about 10 miles away, in a complex called Terrace Apartments," I told them.

Dean drove as I instructed. Sam was continuing to read different newspapers, trying to find a case I guessed. "Anything interesting?" I asked.

He shook his head. "No, it seems pretty quiet, around here at least. I'll be able to do a broader search when I can use the internet."

"Maybe we'll actually have a day off," Dean hoped.

Sam shrugged. "Maybe," he muttered, still immersed in reading.

When we got to my apartment I was glad to escape the awkward silence.

We had just entered the place when Dean already became impatient. "Just grab the essentials so we can go," Dean dictated.

I turned around to face him. It probably looked comical since he was 4 inches taller than me. "Look, Dean. I'm thankful you're letting me come along, but let's get one thing straight: You are not in charge of me. So stop acting like it," I told him.

He was stunned silent. As I walked to my room I heard Sam laughing and saying, "I believe you were just served." Then I heard Dean shove him.

I grabbed my laptop and carried it out to Sam. "You can use this to look for a case, if you want," I offered.

He smiled and accepted it. "Thanks." He sat down on the couch and went to work.

I returned to my room and found a suitcase and a duffel bag in my closet. I threw a bunch of clothes and other random things in. I jumped when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

"Jesus, Dean," I said. "You scared the hell out of me."

"Sorry," he replied. "I wanted to talk to you." He looked like he wasn't going to take no for an answer.

I continued to throw things into my bags. "What is it?" I asked impatiently.

"I want to know what you meant in the car this morning. You said it wasn't just what I did in high school that you're angry with me for," he said quietly, so Sam wouldn't hear. I turned around and looked him in the eyes. "So what is it? What did I do that was so bad that you hate me for it?"

I opened my mouth to say something but quickly shut it. I shook my head, trying to not let the tears come. "I really don't want to talk about it right now, Dean. I'm sorry, but I just can't," I whispered.

He was about to argue but then decided against it. "Whatever," he snapped. "Just let me know when you feel like talking." And then he left the room.

I let the tears silently fall as I continued to pack. I walked to my bathroom and wiped the tears away. My eyes were a little red and puffy, but I would just have to deal with it. I brushed my teeth, applied some eyeliner and mascara, and put my hair in a ponytail. After that, I threw my toothbrush, make-up, hairbrush, contacts, and a bunch of other little things into my bags.

After I was finally done, I walked out into the living room. Dean had left to go wait in the Impala and Sam was still browsing the internet. He looked up at me. "Were you crying?" he asked with concern written across his face.

"N-no," I stammered, looking away. "It's just allergies."

He didn't look convinced but didn't press the subject. "All right," he said. "Are you ready to go?" He closed the laptop and handed it to me, which I added to my suitcase.

I nodded. "I just need to run by the landlord's office and tell them I'm leaving."

"All right, I'll see you at the car," he said.

He left and I stood in the middle of the room, mentally making sure that I had everything. I took one last look at the place and walked out, locking the door behind me.

**A/N – I know this was a bit of a filler, but it's necessary to the story. Again, thank you so much for reading, I hope you enjoyed, and don't forget to leave a review letting me know what you think!**

**Chapter 3 coming tomorrow, and trust me, you won't want to miss it.**


	3. Chapter 3: Identity Theft

**Chapter 3: Identity Theft**

I had been travelling with Sam and Dean for about a month now. Sam had taught me a lot in that time span, including how to shoot, fight with knives, and fist fight. It turned out that I was actually a pretty good shot, despite almost shooting Sam in the foot that one time.

Sam and Dean would go out on jobs, leaving me behind at the motel we would stay at. I desperately wanted to join in the fight, but they both refused, saying I was too inexperienced and would be vulnerable.

I understood why they didn't let me go, but that didn't mean that I liked it.

One night I was arguing with them about the subject. "I've been doing nothing but training for a month now," I complained. "Isn't experience the best way to learn?"

"Yeah, it's the best way to learn how to get your ass killed," Dean answered.

Sam replied in a friendlier fashion. "We just don't want you to get hurt. Maybe when you get a little more practice, we'll think about it then. Just have patience. Learning to be a hunter takes a lot of time."

I sighed and crossed my arms. "Fine, but I'm not staying in the damn motel room all the time," I stated.

Later that night they left to do some investigating on a shapeshifter problem in the area. I tried to fight my boredom by reading one of my books that I brought along, but that wasn't working. I decided that I would go out and do something. I changed into a pair of jeans and a dark blue blouse. Then I straightened my hair and put some eyeliner on. After brushing my teeth, I applied some lip gloss and then I was ready.

I put my phone in my pocket, slipped on a pair of flats, and left the motel. I didn't know where I was going, but I didn't really care. As I walked down the street I saw a bar on the left. It would have to do.

When I entered the bar I sat down and ordered a beer. I chatted casually with a cute blonde guy to my left for a while, but then things became a little… creepy.

"You wanna hang out tonight?" he asked with a look that for some reason sent chills through my body, and not in a good way.

"Sorry, I can't," I said politely. "I have to get back to my friends."

"Come on," he insisted. "It'll be fun."

I shook my head, starting to get annoyed. "No. I'm sorry, but I can't," I said.

What happened next was what scared the living shit out of me. A look of rage flashed on his face and his eyes turned fluorescent yellow for a split second. I stood up and was about to walk away. "Come on, babe," he whispered, grabbing hold of my arm.

I acted like I didn't see anything wrong and gave him a flirtatious smile. "I'll be right back, I have to go to the bathroom," I said.

He grinned and sat back in his chair. "I'll be waiting."

I walked rapidly to the bathroom and locked the door. I pulled out my cell phone and found Sam's name in my contacts. He picked up on the second ring. "Faith, what is it?" he asked, concerned.

We had established a system where we text for casual conversation and call only for emergencies. "I think I found it," I informed him quietly. "The shapeshifter, I mean."

He didn't question it. "Where are you?"

"At a bar, about a mile away from the motel. Some place called 'Beers and Cheers'," I answered. I tried not to sound scared—I wanted to show him that I could deal with that kind of stuff on my own. I couldn't help but say, "Just hurry, Sam."

"We will," he replied. "Just play it cool, act like you don't know anything. Whatever you do, do not leave the bar. Stay in public."

I nodded even though he couldn't see it. "Okay, see you soon."

He hung up and I regained my composure. After stabilizing my breathing rate, I left the bathroom and took my seat again. He was still there, to my distress. "I waited for you, just like I said I would," he said with a smirk. "Now how about we get out of here?" He ran his hand up my thigh.

I refrained from shuddering and said, "I think I'll have another drink first." And after I saw a look of anger cross his face again, I leaned over to him and whispered in his ear, "I'm a lot more fun after I've had a few drinks."

It disgusted me to be acting like that with him, but I didn't see another option. After that, he grinned. "Sounds good to me."

From what I knew about shapeshifters, he wasn't interested in sex (thank God). He probably just wanted to lure me back to God-knows-where and do something unspeakable to me. Sam told me stories of people being tied up and tortured for hours by these things.

I ordered tequila the next time, to really sell the story. I sipped it as slowly as I could without him becoming suspicious. The two things that kept running through my mind were a) _Where the hell are Sam and Dean? _and b) _I wish he'd take his goddamned hand off my leg_.

After what seemed like eternity and one too many tequilas, Sam and Dean finally showed up. "Hey, Sarah!" Dean exclaimed, using the fake-names method. "Fancy meeting you here!"

I decided to have fun with the fake names. "Hey, Billy! I haven't seen you in a long time," I replied, giving him a hug.

"Are you serious?" he whispered into my ear. "Billy?!"

"Shut up and go with it," I responded.

I hugged Sam next. "And David, you're here too!" I said in an excited voice.

"Don't worry," he whispered. "We'll get you out of here."

The shifter didn't look amused. "Well, nice to meet you two, but Sarah and I had plans."

I immediately thought of a plan. I started wobbling a bit and acted a lot more drunk than I actually was. "You're right, and we should probably get right on that," I slurred.

Dean interjected with, "Actually, we should probably take you home." Then, looking to the shifter, he said, "Sorry dude, but she's too drunk to function."

He looked confused. "But she only had three drinks," he stated.

"Yeah, she's a bit of a lightweight," Sam said behind me, putting his hands on my shoulders.

I shot him a glare and he squeezed my shoulders, telling me to go with it.

"It was nice meeting you, but we'll take her home now," Dean said, starting to guide me away.

"It's a shame," the shifter said. "I bet I'll see you again though."

We walked toward the door and I looked back to see him grinning at me maliciously. I quickened my pace and we went back to the car. "Well, that sucked," I muttered as I sat down in the backseat.

"Ah, it could've been worse," Dean pointed out.

I glared at him. "You weren't the one who had to flirt with that thing," I said in pure disgust.

"Wait," Dean said with an amused smile on his face. "You _flirted _with it?" he asked, starting to chuckle.

I shrugged. "I didn't know what else to do. I guess it worked, though. When you have charm like this, you have to put it to good use," I joked, flipping my hair.

Sam laughed. "I have to say, you did a pretty damn good job. It didn't look like it suspected a thing."

I looked down and bit the inside of my mouth, which I usually did when I was nervous or thinking hard about something. "I don't know. What about the 'I bet I'll see you again'?" I asked. I was worried.

Dean shrugged. "Maybe it just wanted to be creepy."

I shook my head. "When we were leaving, it had this scary grin on its face. It was looking at me as if it was _planning_ to see me again."

Sam fidgeted uncomfortably in his seat. "We'll just have to be extra careful," he said. "Don't worry; we won't let anything happen to you."

We arrived back at the motel and locked the door and all the windows, drawing the curtains shut. "We'll move out to its lair tomorrow and hopefully the damned thing will be dead by nightfall," Dean stated.

I was quiet for a moment and then asked, "Can I go?"

Dean huffed impatiently and responded, "No, Faith. We've been over this. It's too dangerous for you until you get more training."

"I don't feel safe here by myself. I'd feel safer out there, with you two, hunting it," I explained.

"Sam, please talk to her. I'm too tired for this right now," Dean said, removing his t-shirt and falling back onto his bed.

Sam sat next to me and said, "I know you're freaked out right now, but I promise you that you're safe here. With the doors and windows locked, there shouldn't be a way for it to get in. Plus you have your cell phone, and we'll come running if anything goes wrong. We'll even give you a pistol, if you want."

I still wasn't convinced that I was safe. I didn't feel right just sitting around and doing nothing about it, but like Dean, I was too tired for an argument. "All right," I said. "But if I die, I'll haunt your asses."

Sam wasn't amused. "That's not funny." I could tell from the look on his face that he didn't see it as a joke.

I felt guilty. "Sorry, Sam," I said. "I didn't mean to-"

He smiled again. "Don't worry about it. You were just joking." He stood up and walked to the bathroom, shutting the door.

I stared after him in confusion. "Sam doesn't take that stuff lightly." Dean piped up from my right.

"Thank you, Captain Obvious," I muttered.

Then, becoming more serious, he said, "He really cares about you, you know. You're the first person, besides me, that he's felt really close to in a long time."

Trust me, the feeling was very mutual. After Sam returned from the bathroom, I went into it and showered, changed into shorts and a tank top, and brushed my teeth and hair.

It was 3 AM, and my body definitely felt it. I sank into the warm blankets and pillow on my side of the bed that Sam and I shared. We were used to it. Of course, it was a little awkward at first, but we didn't even notice it anymore.

* * *

When I awoke the next morning, Sam and Dean were already gone. They left a pistol and a note on the bedside table for me. The note said, _We think we found its lair. By midnight this should be over. Please don't leave the room._

I groaned in frustration. Another day of nothingness for me. Too bad they didn't think about the fact that I would need to eat. I left the motel for a diner down the street. I hid my pistol in my purse, just in case I needed it. I felt like Sam and Dean were right though; I shouldn't leave the room for very long. So I decided to get enough food to last me throughout the day (thank God for the fridge and microwave that the motel so graciously provided).

I attempted to keep my mind off of things by watching TV and reading all day, but I couldn't stop thinking about the shifter and what it had said. _I bet I'll see you again. _Every time it replayed in my mind a shiver went down my spine.

Later that night, I had fallen asleep. I woke up when I thought I heard someone trying to open the door. I glanced quickly at the clock and it was 9:27 PM. I looked at the door and I saw I wasn't imagining things; someone or _something _was trying to get in. There was a knock on the door and I grabbed the pistol, loaded it, and put my finger on the trigger, getting it ready to fire. I took a deep breath, slowly unlocked the door, and opened it. I pointed the gun at the figure in front of me.

"It's just me!" Sam said frantically, putting his hands up.

I sighed in relief. "Jesus, Sam, you scared me," I said, opening the door to let him in.

"I could say the same to you," he replied with an exasperated look and walked into the room. He locked the door behind him.

"Where's Dean?" I asked when I saw no sign of the older brother.

He removed his jacket and threw it on a chair in the corner of the room. "He's out getting something to eat. I'm not hungry, so I just came back to see how you were doing. How are you?" he asked, looking for some sign of fear or nervousness on my face.

I shrugged. "Dreadfully bored, but alive," I answered. Then I thought of the more pressing issue at hand. "Did you guys get it?" I asked in a hopeful tone.

He shook his head. "Not yet. It's a clever little bastard, but we're closing in on it. It shouldn't be long."

I groaned in irritation. There would be yet another day of boredom ahead of me. "I feel like I'm on house arrest, Sam," I told him, revealing my frustration at the situation.

"It's for your safety, Faith," he told me with sympathetic eyes. "I know how you feel; I had to go through the same thing when I was training as a kid. Dad wouldn't let me go anywhere, and he'd take Dean, leaving me alone for days."

I was silent. Maybe it was something that all hunters had to go through. It still didn't feel right though, I wanted to be out there and learning by doing. "I still don't like it," I responded. "I don't like staying here when you and Dean are doing God-knows-what. You could be dead for all I know!" I took a seat on the bed and buried my face in my hands. Every day that I was there by myself, I would worry about whether Sam and Dean would return. It killed me inside.

"Don't worry about us, we're practically professionals," Sam reassured me, sitting down to my left. "We know what we're doing."

I sat there without saying anything to him. He broke the silence and said, "You know, if it hadn't tried to lure you in and kill you, I might even feel a little sorry for the damned thing."

I looked at him in shock. "You would feel _sorry _for it? It's killed people, Sam. Look, I know you're a sensitive person, and I love that about you, but there are just some things that don't deserve sympathy," I rebuked. I couldn't believe that he was saying something like that.

"I know it's done terrible things, and it needs to be punished for it, but I can see why it's so upset at the world," he tried to explain.

"And how's that?" I replied bluntly, interested to hear what he would say.

He furrowed his brow, trying to find a way to explain his thoughts. "It's an outcast. It can't help what it is, and everyone pushes it away for it. It didn't choose to be a shifter; it's not its fault."

I looked at him with my mouth open. "You've got to be kidding me," I stated in disbelief.

That's when things started to get weird. Sam slowly moved closer to me. "Maybe… it just desires to be touched," he whispered, moving his face toward mine.

"Sam?" I asked in confusion. "What the hell are you doing?"

"I see the way you look at me, Faith," His responded. "I know you have feelings for me."

I gulped nervously. "I-I don't know what you're talking about," I denied, trying to twist away from him.

"Oh really?" he asked with a seductive smirk. "Then you wouldn't care if I did… This?" He removed his shirt and tossed it aside.

_Oh, goddamn, _I thought as I stared at him. I would have never guessed that he was that muscular and toned. Dean didn't care about parading around shirtless while I was in the vicinity, but I had never seen Sam without a shirt on. I looked away, feeling the heat rush to my cheeks. "Of course I wouldn't, now put your damn shirt back on before I slap you," I ordered.

He chuckled. "Don't pretend you don't like it," he murmured, crawling over top of me and laying me back onto the pillow.

"S-Sam," I stuttered."Please stop this. This isn't like you."

He ran his fingers down my arms, which gave me chills. I started breathing rapidly. I tried to force the feelings away, but I couldn't. "I admit you're attractive, but I don't want to do this. Now please stop," I begged.

"Of course you want to, I can tell." He leaned down and whispered in my ear, "Your heart is racing." His lips grazed my skin.

I was confused. "Wait, how can you tell-" Then my face drained of color. I couldn't believe I hadn't realized it sooner. "You're not Sam," I said in a fearful whisper.

It grinned and replied, "You are a smart girl. Now listen up," it ordered. "You're going to go sit in that chair, and I'm going to tie you up. Then you're going to watch as Sammy boy cuts you into pieces." It laughed sadistically.

I gritted my teeth, trying to think of what to do. I was out of reach of my gun and the shifter held me down. And then I thought of something brilliant. _Wait, if it took Sam's form, then that means it has the anatomy of a man… _Then without a second thought, I jerked my knee into its crotch as hard as I could.

It yelled in pain and rolled off the bed. "You bitch!" it roared, its eyes flashing bright yellow. I leaped for the gun, but the shifter grabbed my ankle and yanked me to the ground. My head hit the bedside table; I saw stars and couldn't move for a brief second, which gave it enough time to throw me over its shoulder. I knew I wouldn't be able to get free—it was too strong, so I did the only thing I could. I reached into my pocket and called Sam with my phone. Then I screamed as loud as I could.

"Shut up!" the shifter demanded, tossing me on the chair and slapping me hard across the face, scratching me with its fingernails in the process.

I grinned at it as the blood dripped down my face. "Now you're screwed," I told it.

As it was tying me up with some rope (which it evidently kept in its jacket) it asked, "Oh yeah? How's that?"

I replied, "I have back-up."

It laughed and replied, "The Winchesters? Please. They're miles away. I lead them to a fake 'lair' and then circled back here. Trust me; they won't be here any time soon." It pulled a knife from its jacket pocket and lightly pressed the blade against my face. "It gives me enough time to do what I want to do." It grinned like a mad man.

I could feel my hope disappearing. It could slash my throat in the next second if it wanted to. But then I remembered what Sam had told me about shifters—they liked to make their victims suffer for a very long time, and even though I didn't like the idea of being tortured, at least it gave Sam and Dean time to get to me. "Do it," I spat. "Go right ahead; I'm not scared of you."

It madly grinned again and responded, "Oh, you are a fighter, Faith Lancaster. I like that about you." Then it pretended to look sad. "It's a shame I have to kill you, but hey, we've all gotta do what we've gotta do, am I right?"

"And why do you _have _to kill me?" I asked, trying to keep it talking.

"Because," it replied. "I like to have fun." It laughed evilly and pushed the blade harder into my cheek. I winced, but I refused to show pain in front of that thing. I could feel my flesh break open and the blood starting to trickle down my face, but I did my best to ignore it. I would have kicked the thing in its crotch again, but it tied my legs down as well.

"You're a sick bastard, you know that right?" I asked it.

It laughed again. "Sticks and stones, honey." It brought the blade down across my collarbone, causing a lot more pain than on my cheek. I couldn't hold back the gasp of pain that escaped my lips.

It chuckled in delight. "See, that's what I like to hear," it uttered, bringing its face an inch away from mine. "You may act tough, but you feel just as much pain as any other human."

I spat in its face and yelled, "Go to Hell!" which arguably wasn't the best decision.

Its eyes flashed yellow again and its face turned red. A vein on its forehead started to pop out. "You really shouldn't have done that," it snarled. It slapped me again, ten times harder than the last time. The noise reverberated across the entire room. "You don't seem to understand that I hold your life in my hands."

I let the pain fuel my anger. "And you don't seem to understand that you're just a psychotic dick with the most severe identity crisis I've ever seen," I spat.

It responded by bringing the knife down on my thigh, blinding me with pain. I didn't hold the screams back any longer, the pain was too much.

"You have a poisonous tongue," it told me, running the cold, bloody edge of the blade down my neck without cutting me. "Let me take care of that."

It forcibly held my mouth open and I couldn't fight it, it was way too powerful for me. "You really shouldn't have mouthed off to me, babe," it whispered, pressing the flat end of the blade against my tongue, and I could taste the metallic flavor of my own blood on the knife. It was trying to scare me.

The truth is, it worked. I was freaking terrified, but I didn't let it show. I tried to bite down on its fingers, but I couldn't close my jaw.

It flipped the knife around so the sharp edge was pressing threateningly against my tongue. "Don't worry," it murmured. "This will only hurt a lot." It laughed psychotically as it was about to cut my tongue open.

But then the door was kicked down, and I saw the real Sam running toward me with a gun pointed at the back of the shifter's head. Dean was behind him and yelled, "Let her go!"

For a second, a _split second_, I saw fear in the monster's eyes. Then it resumed its act and smiled, turning around to face Sam and Dean, removing the knife from my mouth. "Hello there," it greeted them.

Sam went totally pale when he saw that the shapeshifter looked exactly like him. He continued to point the gun at it. "You're going to be sorry you ever messed with her," he assured.

"You can't shoot me," the shifter announced, walking behind me.

"Really, why's that?" Sam asked, glaring at it with hatred and continuing to aim the gun at its head.

In a flash the shifter brought the blade against my throat. "Because I'll cut her open," it answered.

Sam clenched his jaw, unsure of what to do. He glanced at Dean, who looked about as lost and angry as he was. Sam looked to me, and I nodded at him, with no notice from the shifter.

The look in Sam's eyes told me he wouldn't do it. _Do it_, I mouthed. _Shoot it now!_

He decided to take the chance and fired the gun, sending several bullets into the shifter's skull. Thankfully, my hunch was right; it didn't have enough reaction time to slit my throat.

I exhaled in relief, glad that the whole ordeal was over. Sam rushed over to untie me and Dean went over to the shapeshifter, making sure it was dead.

When I was free I wrapped my arms around Sam and buried my face in his neck, starting to sob. It wasn't really a sob, it was more like hyperventilation, in panic because of what happened. Despite what I ever told Sam and Dean about the event, I had really thought I was going to die. He held me tightly and whispered, "Shhh, it's okay. I've got you."

Dean dragged the body outside when he made sure no one was around. He said he was going to burn it in the woods. Sam held me for a few minutes, and when I finally calmed down, I looked up. "I got blood on your shirt," I noticed. "Sorry."

He laughed. I could hear the relief and anxiety in his voice. "I honestly don't give a damn about my shirt right now," he assured me. Then, finally seeing the cuts that I had, he said, "Let's get you cleaned up."

It took a few minutes to fix up my cuts, only the one on my thigh needed stitches. He put antibacterial ointment and taped gauze on the others. I was starting to feel the shock about what had happened. I sat against my pillow, holding my knees against my chest.

"Remind me to teach you first-aid sometime soon," he joked, trying to lighten the mood.

I didn't respond. I just looked at the wall with dead eyes. I was sure I was probably as pale as a sheet. "Are you going to be all right?" Sam asked me, placing his hand on my knee. I instinctively flinched, and he drew his hand back as if he'd been bitten.

"Sorry," he exclaimed, obviously shocked.

I shook my head. "No, it's fine. I just-" I cut off, sighing. "I'm okay, really."

Sam looked doubtful. After a moment of silence, he mumbled, "That thing looked exactly like me." He was angry, and I didn't blame him. I'd be pissed off too if something used my image to hurt my friends. "What happened?"

I froze. "It, um… Knocked on the door. I thought it was you, so I let it in," I recounted. I decided to leave the more awkward parts out. "It was just talking to me, but then I realized it didn't sound like you. I kneed it in the crotch and tried to grab my gun, but then it grabbed me and held me down. It tied me up and cut me, and then you two showed up."

He looked kind of amused. "You kneed a supernatural monster in the crotch?"

I started laughing at it myself. "Well, yeah. It was the first thing I thought of."

"You really are a badass," he laughed.

I nudged him playfully in the arm and then Dean walked back in. "It's taken care of," he announced.

"Thanks," I muttered.

"You don't have to thank us," Dean told me. "When you're part of the team we look after each other."

I nodded. That really made me feel a lot better. Then I realized something. "You just said I'm part of the team," I pointed out to Dean, grinning victoriously.

"Yeah, well, don't take advantage of it," he grumbled in return, sitting down to take his boots off. "I'm starving," he complained.

I wasn't feeling very hungry, so I said, "I have some food in the fridge that you guys can heat up if you want."

Dean perked up and scurried over to the fridge, where he retrieved a burger. "Thanks," he said, actually smiling at me.

I smiled in return and thought, _Note: The best way to Dean's heart = Food. _

They ate while I watched TV, and before I knew it, I was asleep.

**A/N - Thanks for reading and I hope you enjoyed! I had fun writing a chapter with action in it :) Please don't forget to leave a review and let me know what you think! I love you all 3**


	4. Chapter 4: Revelation

**Chapter 4: Revelation**

As I slept that night I dreamt about that day in high school, the day that made me hate Dean Winchester. While it was only part of the problem, it's when everything went very downhill.

It was March of my freshman year, and I had been dating Dean for a few months. It appeared to be a regular Friday like any other, but everything fell apart.

I would never forget how I felt. After everything I went through to keep our relationship together; after being screamed at by my parents for being with him, being called a slut and a whore in the school hallways for being in a relationship with a senior, having all my friends leave me (well, except Sam) because they didn't approve of my decision… But I didn't care about any of that stuff. I just wanted to be with Dean.

He had driven me to school that day—his dad lent him the Impala. It was during my lunch period that I remembered I left my English notebook in the car, which I needed for my next class.

When I came across the parking lot, I saw Dean kissing another girl. I felt betrayed, hurt beyond description, and totally heartbroken.

I stared in shock. I was glued to that spot on the pavement, witnessing the man I thought I loved being unfaithful.

Dean noticed I was standing there and broke away from the other girl. He froze and stared at me in astonishment and disbelief that he had been caught.

I felt the tears well up in my eyes as I looked at him. "Faith-" he began, trying to stop me.

I was unable to look at him anymore. I turned around and began to walk away, back toward the cafeteria. "Let me explain!" he yelled behind me.

I ignored him and ran back into the cafeteria, not knowing and not caring where I was going. I ran right into Sam, knocking both of us over.

"Faith!" he exclaimed. "What's wrong?"

I quickly stood back up and shook my head, signaling to him that I didn't want to talk about it. I just sobbed, "Dean," and ran away, leaving him in confusion and anger at his older brother. Well, at least I could always count on Sam.

I went straight home that afternoon, and Dean tried to call me several times, but I ignored him. "Please, just come over so I can explain," he begged on a voicemail.

It took me until the next day to decide I would go to his house and talk to him. I decided I would also tell him what I had been hiding. It was a Saturday and I walked, because my parents always refused to take me anywhere that had to do with Dean. It took me over an hour to get to his house, and when I didn't see the Impala in the driveway, I thought nothing of it. Their dad often left for business trips and left his sons at home.

I knocked on the door and there was no answer. _Maybe they just don't hear me_, I thought. I opened the door and walked in, shocked at what I saw. Nothing. There was no one or anything in that house. As I walked through the rooms, I saw all the clothes were gone, along with Sam's books. Only the bare furniture remained.

"Th-they left?" I whispered to myself in disbelief.

I dialed Dean's number in hope that he would answer. "This number has been disconnected," a mechanic woman informed me.

I frantically dialed Sam's number. "This number has been disconnected," the same voice told me again.

I threw my block of a cell phone at the wall. _No, _I thought to myself in despair. _He can't leave me… Not after-_

* * *

I awoke to Sam shaking my arm. "Come on, time to go," he said softly.

I grumbled and turned over onto my stomach. "I don't wanna," I said into my pillow. Let's just say that I wasn't much of a morning person.

He chuckled and said, "We're behind schedule."

"What schedule?" I asked grumpily, with my face still in the pillow.

"Training," he replied. "I'm training you today, because we can't find a gig anywhere."

I immediately perked up when he told me that. I sat up to face him. "You mean you guys finally have a day off?" I asked in hope.

He nodded. "Yep. So we're going to train, and then we'll find something else to do. So get up," he said again, poking me in the side. I squealed and bolted up.

"Not cool, Sam," I said, embarrassed.

He laughed. "Get ready; we'll get breakfast on the way," he informed me. He and Dean were already packed, with their bags next to the door.

"I guess I overslept, huh?" I asked, rubbing the sleep out of my eyes. I glanced at the clock and it was 11:48 in the morning—much later than I usually slept.

I went to the bathroom and showered, dressed, brushed my teeth, and fixed my hair. Since we were going to do training, I just put on a pair of blue jean shorts and a black tank top and tied my hair into a ponytail.

I quickly threw all my stuff into my bags and closed them—this had become a routine I was used to. I grabbed a pair of sunglasses, put them on, and announced, "All right, I'm ready," only to find that Sam and Dean were gone.

I snorted and muttered, "Yeah, thanks for leaving me."

I walked out to the parking lot, threw my stuff in the Impala's trunk, and took my spot in the backseat. "You take forever to get up, you know that?" Dean asked with the annoyance clear on his face.

"I think I deserved a good night's sleep after what happened last night, thank you very much," I replied. I was in no mood for arguing with Dean that morning.

"You're going to have to get used to stuff like that if you want to be a hunter," he told me, turning the key in the ignition and bringing the engine to life.

I didn't say anything in return because I knew he was right. Sam and Dean had to deal with that stuff all the time. I was silent all the way to the roadside IHOP because I was still tired as hell; again, something I would have to get used to.

Dean decided he would get the Endless Pancake Platter, which was definitely an interesting sight. As for me, I stuck to French toast.

We ate quickly and got back on the road. "Where exactly are we going?" I asked, staring out the window.

"Nowhere in particular," Sam answered. "We don't have a gig, so we're just going to find a place with some woods to practice in."

I felt like there was something they weren't telling me; they never went 'nowhere in particular'. I narrowed my eyes, trying to figure out what they were hiding. I let the matter go and leaned my head against the window.

When we finally got to wherever the hell we were going, it was around midnight. We checked out a room at some random motel and threw our bags in.

"You know," I said. "I could get my own room if you guys feel awkward about this."

"No, it's fine," Sam reassured me.

"Yeah, it's like rooming with an annoying sister we never knew we had," Dean joked, earning a glare from me.

I was about to sit down when Sam said, "All right, let's go," looking at me expectantly.

"What, now?" I asked, checking the clock again to make sure I was right about the time.

He nodded. "Yes, now. You need to learn how to fight at night." He motioned for me to follow him and I reluctantly walked toward the door.

Dean lay down on his bed and laughed. "You kiddies have fun, you hear?"

I shot him a glare as I exited the room. Dean chuckled and threw his keys to Sam. "Be careful," he advised.

"We will," Sam promised as he closed the door. We walked to the Impala and I got in on the passenger side.

"I can finally ride shotgun!" I declared, way too excited about it.

Sam laughed, entertained at my childish excitement. "Are you ready?" he asked.

I nodded. My fatigue was replaced with excitement. "Hell yeah, I am." Every time I trained, I felt like I was one step closer to becoming a hunter.

We arrived at the woods and I ran out of the car, ready to start. "I just can't keep up with you," Sam complained.

I dashed to the top of a hill. "You're going to have to try!" I shouted to him.

He caught up to me and said, "Well, you're definitely fast, so that's one thing you have going for yourself."

I grinned at his praise. "Why, thank you."

"But there's one thing that I'm kind of worried about," he told me.

I continued running up the hill and yelled behind me, "What's that?" And then I tripped over a rock and fell on my face.

He ran to me and pulled me up. "Your clumsiness," he said, trying not to laugh.

I playfully elbowed him in the stomach and said, "Shut up, that was just a freak thing." I was embarrassed and wanted to change the subject. "So what are we starting with?" I asked him.

"Hand-to-hand combat," he answered.

I grinned. "This should be fun."

I had already done a lot of hand-to-hand fighting, but Sam felt like I still wasn't good enough. I got into fighting stance. "Try to hit me in the face," Sam instructed.

"All right, you asked for it," I said, feeling surprisingly overconfident.

I hurled my right fist toward his face, and was upset to find him swatting it away. I clenched my jaw in concentration and tried to punch him again. He grabbed my arm, twisted it, and had me kneeling on the ground. After a couple seconds he let me go. "Ow," I complained. "That was a bit much."

He shrugged. "You have to be ready for anything," he said in his defense.

I rubbed my arm and said, "That really hurt, Sam."

He started to look concerned. "Let me look at it," he offered.

I smirked and then hit him in the face, right under his eye. He looked shocked and offended. "That was dirty!" he exclaimed, rubbing his face.

"You have to be ready for anything," I mocked giving him a challenging smile. "It worked, didn't it?"

"I guess," he admitted reluctantly. Then, brightening up, he said, "Now you're going to get it." He got into a fighting stance. "New objective: try to beat me in a fight."

I laughed. "Oh, please. This will be child's play," I teased.

While I was being arrogant, Sam took the opportunity to swing at me, which I barely dodged by a second. "Nice one," I remarked, clapping. "But not good enough."

I tried to swing my foot against his ankle to trip him, but I didn't consider how much taller and heavier he was than me. The worst I did with that one was bruise his shin. He laughed and then grabbed my arm, twisting it just like before, but real this time. I was surprised when it actually hurt. I winced and then stomped on his foot as hard as I could. He grunted in pain and let me go.

"You're getting better," he praised. "But you still have a while to go." We kept at it for a while, and I was happy to see that we were a pretty even match.

For the next couple of hours we practiced shooting, melee, and hand-to-hand. He had me run all over creation to strengthen my leg muscles. I had to do several push-ups, pull-ups, and jumping jacks.

I was sweating intensely and felt like I was about to fall over. I was leaning on a tree and trying not to have an asthma attack.

"All right," Sam said. "I think we can call it a night." After checking the time on his phone, he added, "Well, a morning."

I looked at my own phone and the digital clock showed me it was 2:56 AM. "Where does the time go?" I asked jokingly.

"Time flies when you're having fun—or beating the crap out of each other," he said.

I laughed. I was starting to regain regular function of my lungs. "I'll race you to the car!" I challenged, taking off toward the parked Impala.

I was almost down the hill when I felt Sam crash into me. I hit the ground and the air was knocked out of me. I opened my eyes and saw Sam literally on top of me. "And you call me clumsy," I sputtered, coughing and trying to catch my breath.

He rubbed his head and said, "Sorry, I tripped."

I tell you, there's nothing quite like being a 5'10 girl and having a 6'4 man collide right into you at full force. Our faces were barely an inch apart and I could feel the heat of his breath. "Um… Sam? You can get up now," I indicated.

His eyes widened when he realized what had happened. "R-right," he stuttered, standing up and holding out his hand. I grabbed it and he pulled me up.

We were almost to the car when I tapped him on the shoulder. "Listen—Dean won't hear about that little incident back there," I said.

He grinned. "Of course not, he'd have a field day with that one."

And we laughed together as we got into the Impala.

Sam had me out training every night for two weeks straight. It got more and more intense each time. It was incredibly difficult, but I could feel my skills sharpening. I looked in the mirror one morning and I noticed that what had been soft skin had turned into toned muscles since I started travelling with the Winchesters.

When we weren't physically training at night, Sam spent the days teaching me about different creatures; where they roam, what they do, and how to kill them.

I was curious why they were suddenly so serious about the training, and when we were in the car on the way to a destination I was oblivious about, I chose to ask them about it. "Why have you guys been training me so much lately?" I questioned, breaking the long silence.

They briefly looked at each other and Dean sighed. "Fine, we'll tell you."

My interest was piqued. "Tell me what?"

"You're going on your first hunt with us," Sam revealed.

I gaped at them in excitement. "Really?!" I asked, making sure they weren't playing a joke on me.

"Yes, really. Don't make us regret it," Dean warned me as he watched the road.

I was practically bouncing up and down. "I won't, I promise!" I exclaimed. I reached forward and wrapped my arms around Sam and Dean's shoulders.

"Stop it!" Dean demanded. "You're gonna make me crash!"

I giggled and sat back in my seat, glad the moment I had been waiting for was finally approaching.

"So where are we going? What are we hunting?" I asked them eagerly.

For some reason Sam looked nervous. "We're going to Richmond, Virginia," he answered.

Suddenly, my excitement wore off into seriousness. "Why? What's happening there?"

"We're not sure," Dean answered. "Tons of girls have gone missing; girls with no reason to go missing."

I was confused. "What makes you think this is our kind of gig? Maybe it's just a psycho with a weird fetish."

Sam snorted and Dean shot him an annoyed glance. "Because there's not a single trace of the people who've gone missing, and they're not connected in any way except for this: They all go missing at night."

"So?" I continued. "Most kidnappers do tend to strike at night."

Dean shook his head. "It doesn't feel right," he argued. "I feel like something's off here, especially since it's in the same city where we used to live. I don't like it, so we're going to check it out."

I still wasn't sure. "Maybe it's just a strange coincidence. Richmond does have a high crime rate," I pointed out.

"People are too predictable," Sam explained. "Usually with crimes committed by them, there's some kind of connection between the victims. Take race or age for example."

I nodded in understanding. "Maybe you guys are right. I guess it's best to check it out."

Dean smirked at me and said, "Are you actually agreeing with me?"

I shot him a look and replied, "Shut up."

Sam and Dean found out that their old house in Richmond had never been bought by anyone; it was abandoned. They thought it was the perfect opportunity for us to stay somewhere other than a motel for once while saving money at the same time.

We pulled in behind the house, to keep the car out of sight. The house may have been abandoned, but that didn't mean we wouldn't get in trouble for staying in it if someone found out.

Dean took their dad's old room, Sam took his old room, and I took Dean's old room. I unpacked my stuff and put it away; they told me that we'd probably be here for a while.

We were sitting in the living room when I asked, "If no one's lived in this house for 8 years, then why is the electricity and heat still working?"

"This house is property of the city, so they're probably keeping it in good condition in case anyone wants it," Sam explained with his eyes glued to my laptop screen.

We sat in that room for hours, trying to dig up any information we could find on the missing girls. "The only thing that seems to connect them is that they're all between the ages of 15 and 30," I mentioned. "That isn't really much to go on, though. They're all different races, from different social standings, from different parts of the area… This is weird."

"Welcome to our world," Dean told me without looking up from a newspaper article.

Sam stood up. "I'm going to go talk to some of the families; you two stay here and keep looking."

"Why do you get to go talk to them?" I asked.

"Because I'm the most charismatic," he stated, flashing us a smile and then walking out the door. Then he popped his head back in and added, "Don't murder each other." He closed the door behind him.

Dean and I looked at each other, unsure of what to say. Dean broke the silence with, "Well, this is awkward."

I nodded in agreement. He continued to look through different articles while I stared at the floor. _I might as well tell him while we're here alone, _I thought. I didn't want to, but I needed to.

"Dean," I said.

He looked up at me. "What?"

I averted my gaze and asked, "You know how you wanted me to tell you why I was so angry at you?"

He nodded, not sure in which direction this would be going. He sat down next to me on the couch. For the first time in a long time, he didn't have a look of arrogance or irritation on his face. He looked anxious.

"I know you remember what you did in high school," I started. He nodded. "Well, I was pissed at you for a long time for that; but honestly I haven't cared about that for a long time."

He was more confused than ever. "Then what is it?" he asked, wanting me to cut to the chase.

I looked him straight in the eyes. "Remember that night that your dad was out of town and Sam was at a friend's house? That night I came over?" I asked.

He grinned at the memory. "Hell yeah, I do."

I smacked him across the arm. "Can you be serious for just a minute?" I scolded.

The grin was wiped off his face and he nodded again.

I hesitated and my heart started racing. "You remember what we did?"

"Yes, Faith, of course I remember. But why does that matter?" he asked me, totally puzzled.

_He doesn't get it, _I thought. _He doesn't understand what I'm trying to say._

"Because," I started, trailing off. I paused again.

"Because I was pregnant."

**A/N – Sorry this took so freaking long for me to update. I'd like to thank you guys for being so patient! As always, let me know what you think, and I hope you enjoyed! :)**


	5. Chapter 5: Heart to Heart

**Chapter 5: Heart to Heart**

Dean gaped at me in disbelief. "Come again? I think I misunderstood you," he spoke.

"I said I was pregnant," I repeated quietly.

"Was it… mine?" he asked. His expression was unreadable; I didn't have the slightest clue what he was thinking.

"Of course it was yours," I snapped. Then, realizing my tone, I said, "Sorry."

We sat in awkward silence for a few moments "Tell me everything," he said.

I took a deep breath. "The next few weeks after that night, I hadn't been feeling well at all," I recounted. "I thought it was just a stomach bug, but I just didn't feel right about it. So I bought a test, took it, and it was positive. I freaked out; I didn't know what to do. I wanted to tell you, but I was so scared…" My voice started to quiver.

"Scared about what?" he inquired. He was actually listening to me; to every word I had to say.

"I was scared you would leave me!" I admitted.

He didn't answer me, he just looked down.

I continued my story. "A couple weeks after I found out, I made the stupid decision to tell my parents. And you know they didn't like you anyway, which only made the situation worse. They gave me an option; to break up with you and get an abortion, or get kicked out on the streets. They gave me a month to make the choice, but they wouldn't speak to me until I did."

He looked horrified. "Why didn't you come to me about this?" He asked me. He didn't sound angry, just saddened and shocked.

"Like I said, I was scared," I answered back, trying to make him understand how I felt. "I did my best to hide it from you and everyone else. I wore looser clothes, hoping you wouldn't notice the little bump. But after doing a lot of thinking, I decided I wanted to keep it."

"Did you?" he asked. This was a lot for him to hear, I could tell how much the news was crushing him.

Instead of a straight answer, I continued my story. "I made up my mind that I would tell you about it… It was a Friday."

His face fell. He knew where this was going.

I started to tear up. "I was going to tell you when school was over, but during lunch I came to get my notebook… You know what happens next," I told him.

He looked at me and I was shocked to see that his eyes were moistening. "What did you do?"

"I went home and ignored your phone calls," I responded. "But the next day, I decided to come over to your house. I was finally going to tell you; I wanted to work out a plan with you for everything. But when I got there, there was no one home."

"I'm sorry," Dean whispered.

I kept going. "I tried calling you for days, I asked everyone around if they knew where you were, but they said you guys just left without a goodbye," I said. "At least now I know why," I added bitterly.

"You're not telling me what happened to the baby," he pointed out. "Did you keep it?"

I could feel the tears coming. "I wanted to," I whimpered. "I wanted to, so badly. But my parents made me-" That's when I broke down and began to bawl. I couldn't say it, but he knew.

I was surprised to find myself being held in Dean's arms. The 8 years of anger I'd been holding in was let go. "You left me!" I sobbed, pounding my fist against his chest. "You left me when I needed you, Dean!"

He continued to hold me. "I know," he whispered. "I know."

After a few moments I stopped and just laid against him. I was emotionally drained. "In case you were wondering," I mumbled against his chest. "It was a girl."

And then the weirdest thing happened – I heard Dean sniff. I looked up at his face and a tear silently fell. "Dean –" I whispered, suddenly feeling terrible for making him feel so bad.

"Don't," he said. He laid his chin on the top of my head. "Just sit here with me."

So I did.

We sat together in silence for a long time, with Dean's arm around me in comfort. I began to realize that I shouldn't have blamed Dean for any of that stuff. We were both responsible for me getting pregnant; it wasn't just him. It also wasn't his fault that his dad made Sam and Dean leave with no notice, because they had no say in the matter. I started to think that I was really just angry at myself for holding my secret in for so long.

"I'm sorry I was so hard on you," I told him. "You didn't deserve it."

"It's okay," he responded. "Everyone does crazy things when they're angry."

I nodded in agreement, but I still felt guilty. Deciding to move on from the subject, I rubbed my eyes and asked, "So, are we cool?"

He smiled lightly. "We're cool," he answered, holding his fist in the air to me.

I stared at him incredulously. "Are you seriously wanting me to _brofist _you?" I asked him.

"Why not?" He asked with his fist still in the air.

I rolled my eyes and chuckled half-heartedly. "Fine," I surrendered, bumping my fist into his. I laughed, and after all that sadness, it felt nice.

He stood up and clapped his hands together, "Let's get back to work," he said, moving back over to the kitchen table and looking through all kinds of articles. I could tell he was still deeply troubled about what I had told him, but he was hiding his emotions. It's what Dean always does.

I opened my laptop and continued to dig through the news. After an hour, I still wasn't finding anything and became frustrated. "I can't find a friggin' thing," I complained, slamming the laptop shut.

"Whoa," Dean remarked. "Easy, killer." Seeing that I was unamused, he continued, "You're just starting out; don't be too hard on yourself. Plus there isn't much information on this case—even I'm having trouble with finding anything."

We were interrupted by the sounds of sirens blaring down the street. Dean and I looked at each other in confusion. "I wonder what that could be," he muttered, standing up to look out the window.

"Let's check it out," I suggested.

He grinned. "I like the way you think," he said, grabbing his car keys. I followed him out the door and to the car.

* * *

Dean drove to the site and stopped the car on the side of the road, near an alleyway. There were several police cruisers and an ambulance at the scene, with officers blocking the view from civilians.

"Maybe it's one of the missing girls," I proposed.

He shrugged. "Could be, but we'll never get in there—it's blocked off." I could tell by the look he was giving me that he was testing me.

I smirked and replied, "Yeah, but they'd have to let FBI officers in."

He grinned. "Good response. But we'll have to wait an hour or so; the FBI never gets there right away." He pulled away and back onto the road.

"So what do you propose we do until then?" I asked, glancing out the window at nothing in particular.

"We have to look the part," he replied.

About an hour and a half later, we were prepared. Dean was wearing a black suit and I wore a white dress shirt and a knee length black skirt with black heels.

"I hate heels," I grumbled. "I'm clumsy enough in flat shoes."

"Ain't that the truth," he chuckled.

I elbowed him in the arm and said, "Shut up."

He drove us back over to the crime scene and parked the car. He reached into his pocket and handed me my fake ID. "Agent Margaret Gardner? Really, Dean?"

He laughed and replied, "Yes, really. It was the first thing I thought of."

I scoffed and then we got out of the car. "So what am I supposed to do?" I asked him.

"Just look official and let me do the talking," he instructed. "Watch and learn from the pro… Margaret." He busted out laughing and I smacked him in the back of the head.

He composed himself and got serious. We walked up to the policemen.

"Identification," one of them ordered.

We flashed our FBI cards and they let us through. There was a detective inspecting the scene. "I'm Agent Warren," Dean introduced himself, flashing his ID to the detective. He gestured to me and added, "This is my partner, Agent Gardner." I nodded, looking as official as I could.

"I'm Detective Jones," the man replied, shaking our hands.

"So, what's the story here?" Dean asked, getting straight down to business.

"There was a dead girl lying here in the alleyway, someone who was walking down the street saw her and called 911," he began. "Her name was Danielle Roark, age 26."

That name sounded extremely familiar to me. "Isn't she one of the girls who have gone missing?" I asked.

The detective nodded. "She sure is; she went missing six days ago."

"Do you have any idea concerning the cause of death?" Dean questioned.

"No sir," Detective Jones answered. "Her body was taken to the morgue at Regional Hospital. We're going to have to wait to hear the autopsy report."

Although Dean told me to keep my mouth shut, I asked, "Did you see her body?"

He nodded grimly. "Only for a minute, before they took her away. It was strange; her skin was white. I mean, like paper-white. It was almost as if all the blood had been drained from her body."

I looked at Dean grimly. He nodded once, understanding what I was thinking. "Thank you, Detective," he said.

"Always glad to help," Jones replied, then went back to surveying the area and taking notes.

Dean and I looked over the crime scene quickly, but couldn't see anything of significance. We went back to the car and he started driving. "Are you thinking what I'm thinking, Dean?" I asked.

"I know what you're thinking," he said. "But we can't be sure until we look at the body."

I was ready to continue the investigation. "Then let's go to the hospital and look," I told him.

He drove to the hospital and went to the morgue. We flashed our IDs yet again and they let us into the room. A man named Dr. Hastings opened up the door to Danielle Roark's compartment and pulled her body into view. "Don't take too long," the doctor said in an unpleasant tone. "It's late and I want to go home." Then he left the room, shutting the door behind him.

"Great doctor," I muttered sarcastically.

Dean pulled the white sheet down, revealing the body. I was stunned to see the detective was right; the poor girl did look like she had all the blood drained from her. Even her lips were colorless.

"I'm going to let you take this one," Dean told me, stepping away.

"Um… Okay," I muttered, moving next to the body. It was weird – I'd never been that close to a dead body before, but I didn't let it get to me. I inspected the head and neck area. She was stone-cold.

I was discouraged because I couldn't find anything of significance, other than her lost blood. "Her blood drained from somewhere," I muttered to myself.

Dean looked amused at the trouble I was having, but I told myself that I could pull it off. I moved her hair over to the side and moved her head from side to side, trying to find a puncture wound. I spotted two identical red dots on the middle of the back of her neck. "Dean," I said. "I found something."

He walked over and looked at her neck. He definitely didn't look happy. He looked at me sullenly and said, "I think your hunch was right, Faith. This is definitely the work of a vampire."

I felt my heart start to race with anxiety. "Do you think they're the same ones that got my parents?" I asked, dreading to hear the answer.

"I don't know," he answered. "But let's not make any assumptions yet." He pulled the sheet back over the body and pushed it back into the compartment, shutting the door.

As we were riding in the car, I couldn't push my bad feelings aside. I was scared that they were the same vampires who killed my parents. But at the same time, I also felt driven to take care of the problem. "I'm going to kill these damn things," I uttered with pure hatred in my voice. "I'm going to kill them if it's the last thing I do."

He glanced over at me and looked a little worried. "How about we call Sam, meet up to get something to eat, and review our information?" He suggested, obviously trying to get my mind off of the vampires.

I shrugged, showing that I was indifferent as to what we did.

He pulled out his cell phone and dialed Sam's number. "Sam," he said. "Let's meet up at that burger place on Joiner Street. All right, see ya'." He hung up.

"What, are you too cool for 'bye'?" I teased.

He nodded. "I'm way too cool for 'bye'."

I snorted and turned up the volume of the music, drowning out my thoughts with the blaring noise.

* * *

When we met at the burger place, Sam announced, "I found something that connects the victims."

"What is it?" I asked.

"All of the families said the girls had been into trouble at one point or another. Drugs, alcohol, sex – pretty much anything you can think of. And it turns out that a couple of them were known prostitutes, including Danielle Roark," he informed us.

I let the information sink into my brain. "So maybe this is a vampire with something more than just blood on its mind?"

Dean chuckled a little bit, but Sam remained serious. "Maybe," he replied.

They sat there and ate while I continued to ponder the situation. It seemed like the vampire preyed on troubled, promiscuous girls. We needed to catch it before it killed again.

A few minutes later, I said, "I have a plan."

They both looked at me in surprise. "Humor me," Dean said.

"This thing evidently likes girls who look, well, like whores," I began. They nodded, telling me to go on. "So, I was thinking that maybe I could-"

"No," Sam interjected. "Absolutely not."

I gaped at him. "You don't even know what I was going to say!" I said indignantly with my arms crossed.

"Yes I do," he replied. "You want to use yourself as bait."

I stared at the table. "Okay, maybe you did know what I was going to say. But it's a good idea! I could dress up like a whore, wander the alleyways, cry a little to lure it to me, and then we find the vampire's lair. You two just follow me from a distance and everything should go swimmingly!"

"No!" Sam demanded. "It's too risky. It could kill you in an instant!"

"I thought you had to be prepared for anything when you're a hunter!" I challenged him, giving him a look saying I wouldn't back down.

"Not something like that on your _first hunt_!" he stated, almost yelling. People were starting to stare.

Dean was starting to look annoyed. "Quiet down, would you? Finish eating and we'll discuss this back at the house."

I reluctantly shut up and continued to shovel food into my mouth. From the look Sam was giving me, it wouldn't be easy to convince him to let me go through with my plan.

Almost as soon as we walked through the threshold of the door, I continued. "Just let me do this! Let me prove myself!" I pleaded.

Sam turned around to face me. "No, not this early. You're not ready," he told me.

"Not ready?" I asked in disbelief. "You trained me for weeks! You can't make me pass up an opportunity to kill the sons of bitches who killed my parents!"

"We don't even know if they're the same ones – we don't even know if there is a _they_. It could just be a single vampire! I'm not going to let you risk your life on chance!" he rebuked.

"_You _don't get to decide how and when I risk my life, Sam," I said, getting increasingly angrier.

"Would you two shut up?!" Dean yelled, finally having enough.

Sam and I stared at each other; you could practically see the lightning between our gazes. Neither of us wanted to back down.

I turned to look at Dean. "You haven't said anything about it. What do you think?"

He suddenly looked as if I cornered him. "Well, I think if we can pull it off without you getting hurt, then it's a great plan. But how do we do that?" he asked.

I stared at the wall, trying to think of something. "Vampires are vulnerable to dead man's blood, right?" I asked. Dean nodded. "Then I could keep some darts coated in dead man's blood in my back pocket. If things go south, then I stab it with it. It should immobilize it long enough for you two to come in and chop its head off."

Dean contemplated the idea. "I guess that could work," he admitted with a shrug.

"But like I said, we don't know how many there are," Sam cut in, still not letting me win.

"Well if you two are close enough, then you can back me up if the need arises," I said. He didn't look convinced. "Look," I murmured, calming down. "I know you're concerned, and I appreciate that, but as a hunter you know that we have to take risks with this job sometimes. I know how to fight – I had a good teacher."

He smiled a little bit. "Still… I don't know if you're ready for something like this."

I shrugged. "We won't know until I try."

He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "Fine. We'll be right behind you the whole time."

Dean nodded in agreement. "We've got your back."

I grinned. "Then let's get this show on the road."

* * *

A few hours later, we were ready. I went to a Wal-Mart and bought a short black denim skirt, black knee-high boots, and a skin-tight red tank top. I curled my hair so it cascaded down my back in waves. Then I applied black eyeliner, mascara, blush, and red lipstick. I also sprayed on some perfume for good measure.

While I was preparing myself, Sam and Dean got the dead man's blood and other weapons we needed.

When I was done, I slowly walked out of the bathroom and into the living room. "I think I've lost 95 percent of my dignity," I muttered, pulling at the tank top to make it more breathable.

They were busy getting the weapons together to notice me. I rolled my eyes and walked over, gathering the darts and dipping them in blood.

"I would take about ten, just in case," Dean recommended, concentrating on sharpening some blades.

I shoved the darts in the back pocket of my skirt. "So, um… Are we almost ready to go?"

"Yeah," Sam said, also sharpening blades. "We should be ready in a few min-" He looked at me and almost dropped the blade, nearly slicing his hand in the process. He got very red and averted his gaze, continuing his work. "Yeah, just uh – give us a few more minutes."

Dean looked to see what Sam's problem was and laughed. "Wow, you… you look…"

"I know," I said. "I look like a freaking hooker."

He shrugged. "Well, it is the plan." He kept looking at me, his eyes travelling up and down my body.

I snapped my fingers. "Dean, my face is up here," I said, motioning at my head.

He chuckled. "Right… Sorry."

He then went back to work. Sam and Dean looked uncomfortable and nervous, well, more so Sam. I smirked in amusement and started to pace back and forth. While my back was turned I saw in a mirror on the living room wall that Dean was still sneaking glances at me. "Dean," I warned without turning around.

He looked down and cleared his throat, embarrassed.

A few minutes later, everything was packed and ready to go. "We're going to walk, to make it less obvious we're following you," Sam told me.

I nodded. "Okay." I was beginning to get nervous. How was I supposed to know if this would turn out well? I bit my lip and started breathing harder.

"Faith," Sam began. "We won't let anything happen to you. And _you _won't let anything happen to you. You're a fighter." He gave me a reassuring smile.

I nodded again. "You're right, everything will be fine… I'll be fine," I muttered. I couldn't tell who I was saying that to – Sam or myself.

He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed. Hopefully it wouldn't be the last time he did that.

**A/N - Woo! Another chapter done! *dances* I hope you like it!**


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